


The Power Of Four

by Masterweaver



Category: RWBY, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-05-13 21:53:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14756981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masterweaver/pseuds/Masterweaver
Summary: Between Fate and Will, there lies Destiny.Between Failure and Success, there lies Hope.Between War and Peace, there lies Tension.Between Regret and Satisfaction, there lies Determination.And sometimes, what should be an Ending is forced to be a new Beginning...





	1. Splashdown

There are quite a few interesting numbers. In fact, almost every single digit number is fascinating, in its own way. Cultures across many worlds have ascribed import from the nothing of zero to the tripled triplicate of nine. Every lone digit in base ten is considered amazing.

Except eight. Nobody likes eight. Nobody hates it, either, the number is just ignored overall. It’s rather sad, actually.

Past that, the numbers get rather uninteresting fast. Ten is nice, twelve is okay, thirteen is a number plenty of people focus one... sixteen, eighteen, sometimes remembered. Twenty, or twenty-four or twenty-five... Thirty or thirty-six... rapidly, numbers lose cultural meaning if they are not squared, divisible by nine, or the result of ten to the power of whatever. Still, that abstract amounts resonate is an interesting facet of culture and reality.

Take, for instance, the number four. Four sides to a square, four points to a pyramid, a doubling of pairs... it is a number oft found in nature, in the count of limbs or the dimensions a creature can think in. Is it any wonder that those of sapient minds might well classify things in fours? Four elements, four cardinal directions, four horsemen of apocalypse, four-person squads. Yes, four resonates with purpose. With clarity, with design. Four is the number of that which is Meant.

And sometimes that means that Four can get a chance, when all other chances had been exhausted. If, of course, they find another way to be Four. 

 

* * *

 

She had been ready.

Or, well, maybe not ready. Even after a century, she still had... regrets. Wants. But they hadn’t felt as crucial as this. Bringing an end to the very power that had killed her, finally making up for her failure in life, watching her old friend vanquish the ancient foe. And that they walked on, him and the princess...

Time to rebuild. Time to let the past lie, and to let go.

She had been, she thought, ready to finally pass on.

She felt it from the others. They were ready too. They had all let go, as one, ready to be caught in the embrace of the goddesses...

...and...

_Something_  had caught her. She felt confusion from the others, of course, but from the entity she sensed...

_annoyancerecognitionbemusementsorrowinspirationhilarity_

And then--

\--it wasn’t exactly pain. Pain felt like a scream. It was as  _intense_  as pain, but it felt like giggling, like her whole body was laughing, and the strange thing was she thought it  _should_  feel wrong but it didn’t--

She had hit the water, the chill abruptly making her gasp and it had flowed in, down her throat, through her gills, the salt rubbing in her throat--

Her gills?

She clutched at herself. The chill of ghostly presence was gone, replaced by the long-lost yet still familiar cool warmth of flesh. Her other hand tightened around something in its grasp--she looked and found, to her amazement, that she was holding the very trident she had trained so long with. She had left it behind, before...

Well. Before.

Her eyes looked upward. The water’s surface sparkled, though it did not shine as it would if the sun were directly above. With little thought, she swam up, breaking through the surface and looking around. There was a shore--uninhabited, it seemed, but palm trees swayed but a few paces in. It stretched in either direction, curving in and out of the water. She didn’t recognize it, a fact that surprised her--her travels with her companions had led her across most waterways and coastlines.

For the moment, she decided, it would be best to see if she could find some sign of civilization, a boat or a ruin or, Nayru willing, a functional town. Her red fluke trailed across the water as she swam sunward, always keeping the shore within a quick lunge’s reach. 

* * *

 

“All I’m saying is that a little more effort could result in a lot more reward.”

“A little effort? Mira, we are talking about a full ten, twenty pounds more fish than I usually bring in. And a full twenty feet deeper. Not even I can hold my breath that long.”

“You wouldn’t need to! If you put ropes on the corners of the net, you could just lay it down and then swim back up and--”

“Fish aren’t dumb like that! If they see the net, they’ll avoid it!”

“Minali, the average fish has a brain the size of a walnut.”

“Yes, and it’s a highly specialized brain. They can’t remember anything past two days, but they can pick up patterns and know how to stay away.”

“Minali--”

“No! You sell the fish and know what they’re like dead, but I catch them and I know what they’re like alive.”

Mira sighed, rubbing one of her scaled shoulders. “I really think that you’re overthinking this. We--hold on, what is that?”

Minali turned around, peering across the water. “Some red... shark? No, wait, dolphin. The tail has flukes.”

“Never heard of a  _red_  dolphin,” Mira mused. “Not one so small either... is it some new form of Grimm?”

“...it’s got silver markings,” Minali pointed out. “Probably not... huh, it’s headed this way.” She stepped deeper into the water.

“What are you doing?”

“If it’s a Grimm we need to know. If it’s an animal, I can just take a look. I’ll be back in a flash, feel free to call the guard.”

The dark-skinned woman slipped into the water, kicking out quickly into the deeper sea. Mira clutched her sunhat, lips working together nervously. Her eyes darted from the ripples Minali’s ponytail created and the red creature shimmying along the water.

Suddenly the creature turned, stilling as it faced the approaching woman... then it darted toward her, skipping across the water eagerly. Minali seemed to hesitate for but a moment, before continuing her approach warily. Mira watched as the two met, her friend rising her head out of the water... and the creature, surprisingly, doing the same. She could swear they were actually talking to each other, but that was ridiculous. Still, it obviously wasn’t a Grimm, whatever it was. Her hands loosened off the sunhat, though she wrung them awkwardly for a moment or two.

Minali turned back to her, giving a broad wave. Mira waved a finned arm back--a standard catch and retrieval signal, an all clear they’d agreed on. Even at this distance, though, she could see the unnerved expression on her friend’s face.

The dark-skinned woman started back toward her, followed closely by the red creature. As they approached, Mira couldn’t help but notice that the creature did not seem to be moving its flukes... in fact, it almost seemed pushed along by something under the water.

Something which rose when it came close to the shore, revealing itself to be a noseless face with yellow eyes.

“Ah, hello...” it said, with a voice as gentle as its lips. “I do apologize. I appear to be lost...”

The face continued rising as it approached, revealing a neck, a set of shoulders, and a bare but featureless pair of breasts bracketed by small gills.

“I was hoping, if I may, to find a place to rest... perhaps a map, as well... I would be quite willing to offer my services, of course.”

“Ahaha...” Mira swallowed as the creature, who looked surprisingly female, stepped into the shallows on a short pair of legs. “I am... I’m just a fish seller, uh... miss...?”

Minali sighed as she stood, shaking the water from her hair. “Mipha, this is Mira Leblanc. Mira, this is Mipha, who’s apparently a Zora princess... whatever that means.”

Mira glanced around, aware of the various people stopping to stare at the newcomer.

“...I... think, maybe, this is a matter for the chieftain,” she managed. “Why don’t I... I’ll just go, get him. Yes.” With a strained smile, she backed away. “You stay... there, okay?”

Minali rolled her eyes as she rushed off. “She’s not usually like this, trust me. We just don’t get space aliens every day is all.”


	2. Shadowed

In some worlds, the line between good and evil is clear and dry. These are worlds with pure light, where everything is seen.

In some worlds, none can see good or evil, as anyone could be anything and change whenever they wanted. These are worlds of pure darkness, where everything is hidden.

Both extremes are vanishingly rare, but their impact is seen in the worlds between them; often light is ascribed to good, and darkness to evil, when the reality is far simpler and subtler. The light reveals, and the dark conceals. Sometimes the villains stride in light, and sometimes the heroes skulk in darkness. The balance between the two can vary from realm to realm, and even within a single reality.

How often has light been found in the deepest shadow, or a flicker of darkness in the brightest realm? The two are opposite, but not mutually exclusive; the truly dangerous can wield and weave both, for good or ill. Purveyors of secrets, revealed or hidden as needed; spirit walkers who find knowledge in the realms beyond the living; those who would paint the world with blood in order to save lives. It is a delicate mixture, an unstable blend, expressed myriad across stories beyond all time.

What happens when the shadowed walk into light? When the enlightened traverse the shadows? Should they survive, then those aware of their journey tremble--the world could very well change.

Or, well, it could just be an odd happenstance. Not everything need be so dramatic.

* * *

Her outfit and bronze skin spoke of a far warmer environment, but she showed no discomfort as she strode through the trees... at least, none from the ambient temperature, though a typical traveler's wariness was apparent in her cautious gaze. Her clothing, what little there was of it, was more jewelry than cloth; gold belts, bands, and bracelets, hoop earrings and skirt hangings and high heels, floral patterns of red and green on her miniscule halter top and loosely clasped half skirt. Her weaponry was similarly extravagant--a scimitar and round shield, embossed with so much gold and jewelry that ordinarily she would have been dismissed as a wealthy Atlesian moron playing at Huntress.

Except... the shield was big enough to cover an ordinary person, and the scimitar looked large enough to sink into the neck of a Manticore. Yet in the woman's hands, they looked much smaller... because the woman herself towered, her muscled body and carefully balanced stance marking her not only as a warrior, but one who had fought many kinds of foes. Beneath the flowing hair, hair the color of Forever Fall, stoic green eyes peered over a large, bold nose and took in every detail of the forest around her.

She had been watching this stranger for two and a half days, ever since the great flash of light in the sky. Her outfit could, perhaps, be pawned off at one of the shadier dens in Mistral, but to take it would seem to be a greater struggle than necessary. The woman was... she did want to call her a Huntress, there was that sense of danger she exuded, but there were a few things the woman lacked. Any supplies, for one, though she seemed decent enough at foraging. No scroll, either. And her weapon had no Dust, or any ranged aspect to it. It was... possible, perhaps, that the stranger was from some isolated village that had lost contact before the Great War. Even then...

Suspicions flickered through her mind as she glided to another branch. The simple fact was, the stranger was an unknown. It could, perhaps, be possible to recruit her, if she worded it carefully, but she didn't know enough about her to do so. At the very least, it would be best to keep her out of Salem's grasp; the witch had enough dangerous people working for her, one more was not something she could accept. Whether she would end up in Ozpin's grip... well, as much as the man deserved her ire, he was apparently content to ignore her at the moment. And perhaps...

...perhaps.

The chain of thought was entertained, quietly, for a few seconds. Then it was squashed flat, shoved away. That door had been shut long ago. It could not be opened again. Best to focus on the moment.

She flitted to another tree, considering the stranger carefully. A small pack of Beowolves had caught scent of the traveler, turning from their patrol to rush through the woods. They would arrive in a few minutes. It would be best to see her against the Grimm. The way she fought would speak volumes of her ability, and it might reveal hints of her past.

And if the stranger needed to be saved, well...

...everybody got one chance.

* * *

The animals grew quieter. Not silent, but definitely keeping themselves out of notice. A predator... or something worse, perhaps.

A growl from behind her confirmed it, and she spun on a heel, shield rising to deflect the claws of... what, exactly? A demon of some sort, clearly--the burning eyes and built-in skull mask made that much clear--but not one she'd seen before, or which she'd heard of from Hylian scholars.

That question was set aside for later. For the moment, she pressed her advantage, scimitar swiping forward. The demon dodged, growling again as it loped around on hunched arms, shadowy fur ruffling faintly. In the full light she took in the arrangement of bone spikes along its back and joints; not effective armor, but useful in deflecting attacks meant to remove limbs or disable the creature. And they would be useful as weapons... a close-range assailant, a burst fighter.

The sound of peat being crunched hit her pointed ears. She spun, and her scimitar met the chest of another demon lunging at her. Her motion continued, sword raising the beast over her through inertia while the shield on her other arm spun and bashed the oncoming claws of the first beast away. At the apex of its arc her blade shed the shadowy body from its grip, letting it twirl down toward the skull of the _third_ demon lunging at her; the snout of the fourth, coming from the opposite direction, met the edge of her shield and found its claws bouncing off her brassard.

Pack hunters. A sense of tactics, then...

With a wrench of her wrist she tore the scimitar from the eye it was embedded in, parrying a set of claws on one hand and smashing a skull face with the other. The blade dug into a chest and downward still, ripping free of the demon as it fell to its knees. The final creature huffed, snarling and backing away as it eyed her sword warily.

A mischevious smirk graced her face. "Yes, the scimitar is dangerous, isn't it?" With a showy twirl, she sheathed it. "What will you do when it's gone?"

The demon looked from her empty hand to her face. It crouched, hackles raising, and pounced.

She snapped her fingers.

A thundrous boom announced the arrival of a single bolt of lightning, lancing through the creature midair. Its spasms illuminated the shadowy fur for the briefest of moments, before it skidded to a stop at her feet. The bone began to turn gray, then black, disintegrating along with the fur and the flesh.

"Hmm." She quirked an eyebrow. "Not Malice... but something similar. Demons of shadow and bone..."

"They're called the Creatures of Grimm."

The woman turned, a wry smile on her blue lips. "What an evocative name." She took in the newcomer's appearance; red eyes, spiky black hair, oddly round ears... and an outfit in the colors of the Yiga clan. "I take it you are the owner of that odd bird that's been following me?"

The stranger crossed her gauntleted arms with an amused smirk. "So you did notice."

"A well-trained spy, that one."

For some reason, the stranger frowned, glancing away. "...training didn't have much to do with it."

"Hmm." She tilted her head, eyeing the odd sheath on the stranger's hip. "I wonder, what ever did I do to gain your interest?"

"You were passing by, and I was... curious." The stranger glanced up at her. "A giant woman with control of the elements..."

The woman laughed. "No, not control. And not the elements. I can only call the fury of the storm."

"I see." The tone of voice held revelation, relief, and strangely... disappointment. "Still," the stranger mused, "that is a semblance that would certainly attract... interest."

"Semblance?"

The red eyes narrowed for a moment.

Then the stranger put on a friendly smile. "You know, Argus is just a day and a half north of here. From there, you could make your way almost anywhere in the world."

There was something to her tone. An unspoken suggestion. The woman nodded. "Useful information."

"Of course, you have to have the lien to pay for a ship," the stranger continued, almost offhand.

"Is _that_ your game?" she asked, amused. "Having me pawn off some of my jewelry to you, just so I can buy passage?"

"Hmm. That is certainly... one way this could go."

"Hah! You are a bold one." The woman considered her for a moment, before pulling a sack from her belt and tossing in her hand. "Ever hear of rupees?"

"I can't say I have."

She reached into the sack, tossing some of its contents to the ground between them. "There you go."

The stranger eyed her carefully, kneeling down to pick up the gems. She held them between her fingers with a frown. "...there is... a power here. Familiar, but not exactly like Dust..."

"Dust?"

The stranger laughed, a single caw. "You know, if you really wish to hide the fact you're from another world, you should be less obvious about it."

"Why bother hiding something you've already figured out?"

"Because I'm not the one you should be hiding from." The stranger gathered the gems up. "What are these, really?"

The woman shrugged. "Sometimes the flow of magic solidifies. At least, where I come from. Multiple uses, but most people use rupees as currency."

"...Using magic here is dangerous," the stranger said flatly. "It attracts attention. Do you need these... rupees?"

"I'm not handing them all over."

"Half the sack, then. Five hundred lien."

The woman narrowed her eyes. "Ten hundred."

"You don't know the value of lien."

"I _do_ know the value of rupees."

"And _I_ know the value of Dust, and right now this is just particularly unique Dust." The stranger rolled the gems in her hand with a smirk. "Five fifty."

"Alone on an alien world, asked to give up one of my most precious possessions? That is an insult." The woman smirked back. "Nine hundred."

"It's pocket change, you said it yourself. Six hundred."

"Pocket change that can be used to fuel a spell. Eight fifty."

"LIke I said, magic here attracts unwanted attention, so they're just a fancy form of Dust. Seven hundred, and I'm being generous."

"I'll have to ration my supplies carefully in any case, and it's better to have more than less. Eight hundred, and I'm being patient."

Green eyes and red locked. The tension vibrated in the air between them. The final step was clear. The only question was who would be the one to take it.

A whisk of wind brought a single yellow leaf between them. Both sets of eyes watched it, and were they focused on each other, they would see identical reminiscence.

"...Seven fifty."

The woman turned back to the stranger. "...Very well." She poured out half the gems into one hand, putting them on the ground.

The stranger picked them up, putting them in a pouch on her belt. She pulled out eight cards from another pouch, holding them out.

The woman quirked an eyebrow. "I believe the deal was seven fifty."

"Seven hundred-lien cards, and one fifty-lien card."

"Hmm." The woman took the cards carefully, examining them. "I... see."

For a moment, there was silence.

"...I'd head to Vale, if I were you."

The woman glanced up. "Really?"

"They're accepting there. Perhaps a bit too accepting. You'd find a lot of help settling in."

"I might well do that. Who should I say sent me?"

"Why would anyone send you? You just... wandered in on your own, of course." The stranger turned away. "Be watchful. Even Vale has its secrets."

"And you don't?"

"None worth mentioning."

The woman watched the stranger stride through the trees. For a moment, she considered going after her.

Then, with a shake of her head, she turned away, glancing skyward. "North would be... that way." With a firm nod, she started walking through the forest.

She could determine the stranger's agenda later.


	3. Sandbaked

What is the purpose of a question?

It is to seek information, of course. The name of an individual. The location of an object. A simple motivation. Or perhaps to start a discourse on philosophy.

Sometimes, a question is posed as a challenge. A demand to see if the questioned will actually go through with their actions. Sometimes a question is merely asked to see if the one asked knows the answer. And sometimes a question is rhetorical, its own answer sealed within, though often this can be a false assumption.

Then there are the questions unasked. The ones that are not brought forward out of awkwardness, or simply the ones that none realize need asking. And these questions can be a double edged sword. Doubt can slow the path, but also show avenues that would otherwised be missed.

If one does not ask questions, one might assume. And if one assumes, one might be grievously wrong. Even if the answer is brazenly obvious.

Still, not all questions are equal.

* * *

With another mighty yell, Daruk smashed in the head of another shadowy gyorg. Well, the locals called them amathiticeti, but that was a mouthful, and they were clearly gyorgs of some sort. Fishlike, with a sharp skull-like cap that they tried to spear people on when they lept out of the dunes. Not that they could pierce the hardy flesh of a Goron--he backhanded one out of the air, letting the boy with metal claws leap on its unprotected belly, and swung his boulder breaker into the sands. The powerful impact sent ripples through the ground, kicking up more of the shadowy fish--a pair of sawblades sliced the fins off one, while a shocking strike brought another down before it could hit the ground, and a loud report announced a third disintegrating some distance away.

"I think that's most of them," grunted the clawed man, standing up from his kill. "Only two or three left--best to kill them before they get away, but if you can't that's fine too."

"Hmmph." Daruk nodded. "They're headed northwest."

"Olgoi-khorkhoi territory." The young one with a shock-stick brushed off his sleeves. "Makes sense. People don't go after megaGrimm if they're not suicidal."

"Olgoi-khorkhoi?"

"Giant worm Grimm," said the boy with the sawblades. "Love to shape the sands and sneak up on unwitting travellers."

"Ah, Moldorms." Daruk hummed thoughtfully. "Gyorgs and Moldorms... This is an interesting realm."

"Ha, glad you think so." The clawed boy brought up the odd pane of glass he called a scroll. "May! We're wrapped up. You found a good place to set up camp?"

"East," came the girl's voice. "Rock outcropping. Our new pal will have to do without a tent."

Daruk waved off the apologetic looks with a grin. "Ha, that's fine. The desert might get cold at night, but I know a few tricks." He slung his weapon over his shoulder, ambling eastward. "Hope there's some decent rocks over that way."

The dark-skinned sawblade wielder gave him a look. "Are you still on about the rock-eating thing?"

"I'm telling you, a good rock is like a well-cooked meal for me."

"The guy's got boulders on his back," the shock-stick wielder pointed out, following him. "It's not out of the question."

"It's some sort of shell. He's a turtle faunus or something." The one wearing claws gave Daruk's back an odd look. "I mean, I haven't seen a turtle like that, but--"

Daruk rolled his eyes, hung his weapon off his belt, and curled up into a ball, rolling rapidly across the sands. He unfurled once he arrived at the outcropping, smashing his boulder breaker through a promising pillar and picking up the stones that went flying. By the time the others had caught up, he had already thoughtfully munched a few of them and was arranging a few longer shards against a nearby dune.

"What... what was that?" demanded the girl. "How can you move so fast curled up like that?"

"It's a Goron thing." He backed off from his work, eyeing it carefully. "Hm. Any of you kids have a spare tarp?"

"Why would we carry around a tarp?"

"Guess I'll have to do this slapdash." With a shrug, he turned back to the rocks, tapping his weapon against the pillar. "Stand back, will ya? Don't want you getting hurt."

"Uh..." The one wearing claws looked at him. "Okay?" He waved the others back, giving him a wary look. "What, are you going to--?"

Daruk brought his weapon back and slammed it down with a mighty roar. Once, twice, thrice--and a slate broke off the pillar. He moved to the left, repeating the same motions, and then once more.

"Holy crap," mumbled one of the boys.

"That should be good enough." The goron picked up the slates, lining them against the dune carefully, punching them into the sand. He only stopped when the impromptu stone box was half-buried, digging the sand out from inside it and dumping it on top of the structure. "And that'll keep the heat in, I think... Yep, that'll do for tonight. You kids said the closest town was a few hours south, right?"

"...Yeah, we were supposed to check up on the huntsmen there." The one wearing claws nodded. "So... we'll start off at dawn tomorrow. I guess you can get your bearings there or something."

Daruk looked up at the shattered moon in the sky. "Not likely. Well... have a good night, kids."

* * *

Brawnz watched their companion roll up and literally roll into his juryrigged hovel, looking for all the world like a boulder in the dunes.

"...Come on, guys. Nolan, Roy, set up the tent. May, you good for first watch?"

"Sure." The girl shrugged, glancing at Daruk. "We gonna talk about that guy or what?"

"What's there to talk about?"

"I mean... you saw how he smashed those Grimm. Guy like that could be a real huntsman. Or a bandit. But he's wearing almost nothing."

"Runaway slave, I think." Roy shoved a stake into the ground. "The chains, the shackles... Maybe a gladiator."

Nolan scoffed. "In this day and age? Not even the SDC would risk it."

"I dunno, man, there are rumors of branding."

"He doesn't act like a slave," May mused. "Too confident, too competent. And he's got that... is it a sword, or a club?"

"It has an edge," Brawnz observed hesitantly.

Roy shrugged. "I got nothing. Ex-slave, gladiator, alien, I don't care. He doesn't hurt us, we don't hurt him. He causes trouble, we drop him."

"He seems friendly enough," Nolan pointed out.

"He could smash us to paste," Brawnz countered.

"And May could shoot us in our sleep," Nolan replied. "Doesn't mean I don't trust her. If we're not dead tomorrow, we'll see what happens then. Tent's up."

"Good job. May, wake me at midnight."

"Gotcha. Get some sleep, boys."

The three of them crawled into the tent as she took up a perch in front of it. For a moment, her eye flicked to the figure slumbering in the dune.

"...you actually do eat rocks," she muttered to herself. "Maybe ex-slave isn't that far off..."


End file.
